


Don't Lie to Me

by veenadaiya



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Ooo, The Good Ship Charloe, Weak Charlie, charloe - Freeform, protective Monroe, slight torture but not graphic, the patriots are assholes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2019-11-15 09:19:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18070676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veenadaiya/pseuds/veenadaiya
Summary: Charlie and Monroe get themselves into a bad situation with a mysterious group of people. Who are they really and what do they want to know?





	Don't Lie to Me

**Author's Note:**

> I've been thinking about this prompt for awhile now and I finally got a chance to write it. Hope you guys enjoy this little fic. More notes at the end.

     Charlie was completely exhausted. She had been awake for almost 30 hours straight. Her legs ached, her arms ached, everything ached. The stench of her and Monroe's sweat hung in the air. Her sweaty hands clasped at the gun that rested in her hands, trying to maintain a strong grip on it but she struggled. She didn't even know how much ammo was left in it.

     Charlie and Monroe had been fighting a group of Patriots for what seemed like hours. It felt like it had been from sunrise to late afternoon when it had only been a few hours, at most. The sun shined down on them, just watching them as if it was a spectator in a theater. At the beginning, the two of them weren't alone. They stormed into the Patriot camp with about 15 other men but one by one, the group of Patriots took them down. Now, the two most valuable bodies remained. But only half of their spirit. Taking cover in a small, broken down shack, the two held their ground for awhile. But now as their injuries became more severe, their confidence and will began to waver.

     Monroe, with one bullet through his stomach and another through his shoulder, was slumped against the wall under the window sill and resting his head against a metal shelf. His vision was blurred from the blood loss and smoke inhalation. Ten minutes after the two took cover in the shack and locking the door, a smoke bomb was tossed through the window. Immediately, the two felt nauseous. With Monroe suffering the most inhalation due to him standing the closest, he was no help to Charlie who continued firing bullets after bullets at the opposing side. She didn't know where she was aiming through the smoke of gunfire and trees. All she did was shoot and aim for her life. Her head screamed at her and begged her to stop. The blow to her head from earlier was also no help.

     Charlie stood on her knees, hunching over under the window sill to dodge passing bullets.

     "Monroe! C'mon, wake up!" she screamed at him, kicking his legs. He fluttered his eyes open but had no strength left to move. She crawled over to his side and looked at the bullet wounds. They were still bleeding. Her knees soon became soaked in blood, she noticed. She wasn't sure if it was from Monroe bleeding out or the wide blade that was still stuck in her thigh. Before passing out, Monroe advised Charlie to keep the blade in incase it was hitting an artery. He didn't want to take the chance and have her bleed out on them. Kind of ironic.

     She screamed in frustration and agony as she realized her and Monroe were now losing. But she continued firing and firing, hearing a few grunts from the Patriots, giving her a slight sigh of relief but then the firing didn't stop and it occurred to her that she had no idea how many of them were left. Ten? Twenty? Three? Her best guess was about five as she paid close attention to how the guns were going off. Just as she was about to fire, her vision started getting hazy. Things began shaking around her and spinning. Where was she? The blade in her thigh stopped hurting, as well. From the gas inhalation, the blade, and the possible concussion, her surroundings started to morph. Her hands grabbed at thin air in search of something to stabilize herself. She grazed the window sill with her finger tips but with no strength left, she fell to her knees once again.

     Charlie spun around to rest her back against the wall and slowly let her head lay on Monroe's shoulder, smirking slightly.  _Hopefully Miles will get back soon,_ she thought to herself. She began to laugh as she was hysterical. Miles was with another group of fighters, battling more Patriots a few miles east. He was supposed to be back awhile ago, making Charlie worry but also wonder if her own concept of time was off. But she found it humorous that if he were to get here soon, he'd see his niece and former best friend laying on top of each other, moments away from death.

     Monroe was barely conscious but he felt the body weight of Charlie and realized how screwed they were and he yelled at himself for letting go this easy. His muscles wouldn't work and he felt numb. His eyes felt heavy. The last thing he heard was the door breaking down and footsteps coming closer. He felt the weight of Charlie be pulled from him and then nothing.

     Total blackness.

 

* * *

 

 

     Monroe's eyes fluttered open and adjusted to the dim lamp that hung on the ceiling above him. It smelt like rot and smoke and he could feel the moisture that was in the air rest on his skin. He looked around him and tried to gather where he was. It looked like a slum. The rotting wooden walls and lamps that no longer worked were strewn over the ground really didn't do the place wonders. He shifted on the table that he laid on and felt the tension in his wrists. Looking down, he realized they were taped snugly to the table. His feet were bare, his boots somewhere else in the room. Was he in a house? Or a room of a house?

     "Hello?" he yelled, hoping someone would hear him. He rotated his wrists to peel his shirt up so he could look at his stomach wound. He couldn't feel the pain in his shoulder or stomach.  With shaking hands, he pulled his shirt up to see the wound. It was bandaged. From what he could feel through the gauze, it was also stitched. 

      _What the hell?_ Monroe thought to himself. He tried raising his head to get a better view of the room but he couldn't see much more. Just as he was about to shout for help again, he heard a scream from another room nearby. A female scream. Was it Charlie?

     "Hello!" Monroe screamed, hoping she'd respond but all he got in return was another scream. A scream that sounded like it was in agony.

     Where were they?

     The door in front of Monroe then began to open with an obnoxious creak. At the same time, the screams became louder. 

     "What's that screaming coming from?" Monroe demanded to know as the person from behind the door became revealed. A woman. A  _young_ woman. Dark hair. Ethnic skin. She couldn't have been older than 20 years old. Monroe furrowed his eyebrows at her, trying to make sense of the situation. 

     "Hello! How are you doing today?" she asked gleefully and with a smile. Monroe stayed quiet and dumbfounded by her persona. "Not much of a talker, eh Monroe? Don't worry, you will be soon!" The woman saw the surprise in his eyes when she said his name, making her smile wider. "Oh yes, yes, I know who you are,  _Sebastian._ I know a lot about you."

     "If you know anything 'bout me, then you know I won't be sayin' shit," he hissed at her with his sarcastic grin that could make tons of ladies swoon. The remark made the woman's smile disappear and change into a scowl.

     "Well, I'm pretty sure whoever that young woman is is pretty important to ya', am I right?" she asked him in a mocking tone. Monroe clenched his fists in frustration at the woman. He went over what he knew in his head. He wasn't sure where he was in relation to the old shack he was at before. All he could make out of where he was now was the smell of rotting wood and that Charlie was most likely in another room nearby. But how would he get to her? His arms were bound and there was this woman in front of him who wouldn't let him leave easy. Maybe the best idea would be to play along.

     "Carolina," she introduced herself, holding out her hand. She then chuckled to herself at the fact that he wouldn't be able to shake her hand by himself so she dropped her hand to meet his and shook it, much to his reluctance. "Now then, I'm gonna ask you some questions and you  _will_ answer them, okay?"

     Monroe continued staring at her.

     "First question, where's your camp?"

     "You know I ain't talking no matter what you do ta' me," he told her with a sense of spite. 

     "How about this? I wanna know only three things. That's it. You answer them, I'll let you go free. Hell, I'll even tell you all three before you even answer one!" she told him, leaning forward on the table, only inches from his face. She smiled proudly.

     "You'll let  _me,_ Sebastian Monroe, go? Big, _bad_ Monroe?" he asked in disbelief. He was going to ask about Charlie but he thought it'd be best to avoid any involvement for now. To protect both of them. He'd get out then he'd go back for her.

     "Yes, if you answer my three questions. Sound like a deal?" Carolina asked. Monroe nodded in response, interested in hearing what she wanted to know.

     "Why were you attacking that group of Patriots, where is Miles Matheson, and where is Charlotte Matheson?" 

     The questions intrigued Monroe. Especially the last one. It meant that they had no idea what Charlie looked like, that they had her captive already, and she hadn't talked yet. The Miles question wasn't a surprise and neither was the first question. Maybe a bit odd that he knew where he was and not Miles. Monroe swallowed. 

     "We were attacking because-" he stopped speaking and spit in the woman's face. He smiled. "I ain't telling you shit." 

     Carolina groaned in annoyance and turned to wipe the spit off of her face. She slapped him in the face once she turned back around. 

     "The girl you were with, you know her?" Carolina asked, walking towards the door. She knocked three times. "Have any relation to her?"

     "Who? I wasn't with anybody," he lied cheekily.

     "So you won't mind if I cut her open?" she asked, opening the door. Immediately, Charlie fell face forward onto the ground. From the brief second he saw her standing, she didn't seem to be in best shape. Carolina leaned down to pick Charlie off the floor. She struggled to stand as she leaned against their attacker. Carolina held a knife to Charlie's stomach. "Every time you fail to answer a question, I cut her."

     "I don't care, I don't know who that is," he told her. It pained him to say but it was for the both of them. He hurt for Charlie as she looked like she had been to Hell and back. He definitely got the better treatment. 

     "So you don't mind if I..." she said, sliding the blade along Charlie's stomach, evoking a whimper from Charlie. She was delirious. Maybe she was drugged. Carolina continued gliding the knife until Charlie's knees gave out and she fell forward. Carolina adjusted and held the knife under her neck. "She means nothin' to ya'?" Monroe watched everything unfold. His heart was beating loudly in his chest, he could hear it through his ears and feel it in his fingertips. There was nothing he could do except talk. He hated talking.

     "S-Stop, stop, fine, fine. I'll tell you what you want! Just stop, please," Monroe begged. Carolina took a step back from Charlie and crossed her arms. Charlie collapsed, her arms hardly holding her up.

     "Why were you attacking Patriots?" Carolina growled, backing away near the sole door to the room. Monroe watched her as he pried pulled at the restraints on his left wrist. It was just duck tape. Not that hard to rip, especially since it was so old.

     "Because you guys are done for. We took out your president and leaders and we're just cleaning up now. It's Texas and Atlanta now. You guys aren't coming back so I'd run while you can," he told her, still scratching at the tape.

     "Let's get one thing right, shall we? I'm not with those Patriots. I am one, but not like that. So are the rest of my people. Now, where is Miles Matheson?"

     "How is it you knew where I was and not Miles?" he asked. 

     "That wasn't my question," Carolina hissed in anger. She walked over to Charlie and kicked her in the side, making her yelp. She now lay on her side, almost motionless. Sweat beaded at her forehead and blood dripped from various parts of her body. Monroe prayed for her as he knew he was slowly freeing himself from the tape.

     "Fine! I don't know! He was supposed to pick me, her and the rest of our group up after taking that group of Patriots out. He was already an hour late when you guys came. So really, I don't know where he is!"

     "Don't lie to me, you know what'll happen."

     "I do not know where he is. Trust me, I'd tell you if I did," Monroe told the agitated woman. 

_Snap._

The tape then broke, but he stayed quiet. He needed to wait for a better time.

     "Then, my last question. Where is Charlotte Matheson?"

     "Why do you want to know?"

     Carolina was calm again, as she began to answer the question. "She's the ultimate weapon. Young, pretty, ransom. If we have her, we can make Miles and Rachel do anything we want. Whether it has something to do with power, men, armory, and more. They'll fall into our hands."

     "You're wrong. She'd sacrifice herself rather than let you use her for ransom."

     "I guess we'll have to see, eh? Now, where is she?"

     "And you'll let us both go?" he asked. Carolina smiled and walked over to pick Charlie up. She grabbed her by the hair and hoisted her up. Charlie grimaced slightly.

     "Maybe. Where is Charlotte Matheson?" Carolina demanded to know.

     "You know, it's funny, really," Monroe chuckled, readying himself to rip the duck tape on his other wrist and lash at their captor. 

     "What's funny?" Carolina scowled, becoming more irritated.

     "It's funny because the one person you want and supposedly need," he looked at Carolina in her eyes with taunting and condescending eyes, "is the one you practically tortured to death."

     With Carolina's wide eyes of a reaction to her mistake, Monroe launched forward, ripping the tape of his wrist in the process. He grabbed Carolina by her hair before she could reach for a weapon and threw her into the ground. On impact, she was unconscious. He grabbed the pistol from her waistband and the knife from her pocket before making his way towards Charlie.

     "Let's go now, Charlotte. C'mon," he whispered to her, helping her up. She leaned against him but still hardly moved. He was pulling all her weight. "Charlotte, you gotta help me a bit to we'll never make it outta here."

     He kicked open the door and peered down the small hallway. it was dark. No candles were lit. He wasn't sure what type of building they were in. Maybe a cabin. Monroe held the gun up high and kept an eye out as they made their way out. It was too quiet. Almost suspiciously quiet.

     A million things bounced around in his head. Who were these people? She said they were Patriots, just a different kind. What in the hell is that supposed to mean? Why do they care about Charlie so much that they go to such great lengths to capture her. And how is it they had no idea who she was or what she looked like? Everything was strange yet, the one thing that remained constant was how he felt about Charlie. He felt deeply for her as he lied on the table alone, wondering what the hell was happening with her. Would he feel the same way if it had been Miles? Or Rachel? Seeing her battle it out practically alone in the small shack, being proud of what a warrior she's become, and even how she held on to staying quiet while she was being interrogated. Everything about her, Monroe was in love with her. But there was little time for this. How the hell was he going to get them out of their alive?

     Finally, he saw a door. He hadn't needed to use his gun yet, and for that he was grateful. Pushing the door open, he nudged Charlie, hoping it would jostle her awake. That there was a hope.

     But then another bullet went by, making Monroe immediately sink himself along with Charlie low into the ground. He dragged themselves over to a large box. Now, who was shooting at them?

     "Not very nice of what you did to Carolina!" a surly voice yelled from behind the trees. Monroe now had a better look of the place. It was a cabin. A little cabin in the middle of the woods with some extra metal fencing. 

     He shoved Charlie upright so her back was leaning against the box. He sat beside her, breathing deeply. His mind searched for a plan. What would the best course of action be? He had no idea how many were out there waiting for them. He looked at Charlie who's eyes were fluttering open and shut. Closing his eyes and taking one last breath, he leaned towards her and kissed her. If there was one last thing he wanted to do before being shot into oblivion, it would be to kiss her. Lips melting into one another. Even though she was practically unconscious, he could tell she reciprocated. His palm that wandered to her cheek earlier left as he pulled back. Her eyes were wide open, staring.

     "C'mon, man! Whatcha waiting for!" the surly voiced man shouted again. Monroe peered over the edge of the box and with one big gulp, he jumped up with his meek pistol being the only thing protecting him. But just as he started firing, he heard more gunshots coming from different areas of the trees but instead of being directed towards him, it was towards the area that the surly mans yells came from.

     Monroe sunk back down behind the box and waited for an all clear sign, or anything to indicate they weren't going to be shot.

     Then he saw Miles, riding in on horseback to save them. Monroe couldn't help but smile at his friend. Without speaking, he helped Charlie into the attached wagon before hopping on himself. God, was he glad to be back.

     "Hell man, bout time! What I have to tell you!"

 

**Author's Note:**

> First thing, I know I'm really dialogue heavy so if anyone has any tips to fix that, I wanna hear them  
> Second thing, if anyone is interested in another chapter or two, let me know. I didn't plan for another chapter but honestly, it could have one. I'm totally willing to write if anyone is interested.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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